


Memoirs of a Fallen Hero

by StayAWhileAndListen



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual spoilers for Darkest Dungeon, Gen, It is not described in detail, More will be added as the story progresses, Multi, Other, Suicide is mentioned but not gone into depth besides the Prologue, The Heir's gender is unknown because everyone is too afraid to ask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-23 08:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16615034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StayAWhileAndListen/pseuds/StayAWhileAndListen
Summary: Dismas and Reynauld burst into the Heir's office to find them, a letter, and a red book. What follows is the Heir's recounting of the events following the their arrival to the Hamlet detailed in the red book.((This is an active recounting of a run of Darkest Dungeon that I will be doing. I will be taking the key events of what happens within it and then adding my own bit of flair to it. Depending on what happens, I may switch now and then from describing the Heir's memoirs to show you what is happening to the Hamlet after the death of the Heir.All in all, I am planning on finishing this thing, even if it doesn't get any attention.))





	1. Prologue

By the third kick to the door Reynauld had it open and Dismas wasted no time in rushing into the dimly-lit room. The pang of iron and gunpowder filled his nostrils, muddling the sweet scent of lavender incense that was burning out on the desk before him. 

The Crusader followed soon after, needing to sidestep to see what Dismas had heard, and the knight had feared. 

Heir Darkest was dead. 

The air was thick with pity for their former employer and friend-- they knew why it was done. They had come to terms with it after the first foray into the Dungeon. It was a dumb hope that it wouldn’t happen. 

On the desk next to the body was a red book, a sealed letter, and a locked brown box. 

Reynauld said something about informing the town and a funeral. Dismas waved a hand to act as if he heard, and reached out for the letter. It had his name and Reynauld’s name on it-- along with the names of their two deceased teammates crossed out with fresher ink. The Highwayman took it upon himself to open the letter and read it, dumping out the contents onto the desk. A small key-- presumably to the box-- clinked out along with two folded up letters within.

 

\------------

 

The Heir crumpled up another parchment piece and threw it to the corner, a frustrated groan leaving parted lips. How did the ‘Ancestor’ manage to write something like this? They supposed that He never knew them personally, outside of the three years they and their mother lived in the Manor. Even then, He was barely around long enough to make anything of an impression on their memory. 

In the end, He had been right. The moment they stepped into this Hamlet, his voice was ever present in their ears. Soon, it would be silent. What they had come to understand would be the last expedition unto that damnable Manor is next, and the Heir themselves would be going-- along with their most trusted and best team. The original team, their first. Their friends. But…

They knew the history of this place, knew what happened to their Ancestor. And they feared it. Something down there had driven the man that was unafraid of all the things he had meddled with mad with fear. Enough to do what he did and send a letter to the last of his line, the bastard child he bore with a common woman. 

Shifting open the drawer of their Ancestor’s desk, Heir Darkest pulled forth a blank sheet of parchment and dipped their quill pen back into the ink pot. Tapping the edge of the glass vial, their brown eyes briefly flicked towards the Ancestor’s flintlock pistol-- already loaded with the inscribed musket ball found in the Warrens on the last adventure through it. 

Taking a deep breath, they wrote.

 

\------------

 

_My friends,_

__

__

_If you are reading this, I am sure you already know what has happened to me. For that, I am sorry. I am not strong enough, just as my father was not strong enough, to bear the secrets we have seen and the sins that I feel. Know that there was nothing any of you could have done to change this outcome, as it was already set the moment the three of us set foot in the Hamlet that first week of Summer._

_My last will is in this letter, and I pray to whatever merciful entity that has its hold on this land that you are safe and alive to read it._

_Reynauld, should you accept it, I wish to give you joint ownership of this Hamlet with the heroes who stay. I suggest a council of sorts, so that should something terrible come from our last expedition, the innocents in the Hamlet have the land’s strongest men and women to protect it. That said, I recommend you enlist Shag and Scoob as your head lawbringers, they seem to have a knack for it. If you do not accept this, within the box on my desk is 10,000 gold for your use. Please, take only one pouch. It has your name on it. I am sure Dismas will keep his eye on you or, if he is smart, give it to you himself._

_Dismas, I do not think I have anything for you that would satisfy your troubled spirit. Know that through these trials, you absolve yourself of your past sins. I am sure that you and Reynauld will take the same path, and in the box is 10,000 gold for yourself as well as a small trinket I believe you might enjoy. Perhaps these will be enough. Maybe you could spend it on building a brewery to get better ales in the town? Just a thought._

 

Dismas paused in his reading, noting that the other half of the letter had been ripped off. He reached towards the other folded paper that was inside the envelope, noting the handwriting was shakier and had frequent corrections.

 

_I didn’t know what was to happen in this last expedition. Please use Badu’s money to improve the Sanitarium and use Junia’s to patch up the Abbey. By the Light, I cannot deal with what I had to do, had to choose. I did not know what was to pass, what made my father go this far into the madness until I saw. It is in our cursed bloodline. I am thankful I am the last, so that the madness ends with me.  
Please tell Baldwin that I_ ██████ _tell him that I am sorry. For him, my family’s archives are all that I can give._

__

__

_There’s a red book on the desk. These are my memoirs, I’ve been keeping them since we arrived to the Hamlet. You may do with it as you wish, just know that my own thoughts; feelings; and sins are listed within its pages._

_Reynauld and Dismas, everything I own and therefore every last thing my family has I give you do. Distribute it as you wish, burn it as you wish, but whatever you do, don’t follow me down this path. You do not deserve it. You did not deserve what I did in that hellscape._

_I loved all of you like brothers and sisters, and I hate that I had dragged all of you through this. I knew it would affect us, I just did not fathom how much it could._

_Hope Darkest_

 

\------------

 

The next day, the announcement was made. The memoirs of a fallen hero were offered to those who would read them-- after Dismas finished it.


	2. Week 0

_11/15/--_  
  
 _This is Book Two of my autobiography. This foreword is to remind myself that I am doing this to tell my story and to clear the name of my family from the blight “the Ancestor” put upon this country._  
  
 _I received a letter from my father about the ruins of our family home. Enclosed within this book is said letter for later publication, if I ever decide to publish this._  
  
 _I hired two bodyguards to accompany my carriage to the Hamlet. Thankfully, the Caretaker still makes his rounds from the Hamlet to the nearby town of Abingdon. Why he does, only the Light knows. I fear his mind may have abandoned him in his time with my father. And… afterwards._  
  
 _One of the bodyguards is a former Crusader of the Light. He seems respectful enough, even when I told him of my background and my goal. After all, very few people will hear the family name “Darkest” and deign not to sharpen their spears._  
 _His name is Reynauld. He did not give me a last name, so I will not be asking. I did note, though, that he carries a wedding band on a necklace. I did not ask about it, as it was not my business. Besides, I doubt he wants to share. As polite as he is, I feel as if he is hiding something behind that helm of his._  
  
 _The other is a man named Dismas. A rogue, though I suspect he was something more. He has the look of a highwayman, and the talk. Reynauld was not exactly pleased to have him along, but I know that men like Dismas would be invaluable in the bandit-stricken lands of my former home._  
  
 _We made our way to the Hamlet the same day I hired them. We were about halfway to our destination when the Caretaker had taken a more maddening pace, and managed to overturn the carriage._  
  
\------------  
  
“Still breathing. She-- err… hm. _The Heir_ has a pulse. Merely unconscious.”  
“Great. Oh, and the crazy old git isn’t around. Our stuff is either gone or trashed.”  
  
You reached an aching hand up to your mouth, making sure first that your scarf hadn’t been torn away in the crash. The movement caused two blurry forms-- the bodyguards, you presumed-- to shift slightly.  
“Wait,” the voice of the knight spoke up, placing gauntleted hands on your shoulders, “sit for a moment. Are you well? Wait until you can see clearly again.”  
  
And wait you do, blinking up at the sunset orange sky. You had forgotten how beautiful the sky was away from the rising industrial empires of smoke and steel. However, you really did not have the time nor the patience to wait out the stars. The night in these lands was far too dangerous to let it set upon you.  
Grasping onto a broken piece of wood nearby, you pulled yourself to your feet and felt the strangely soft soil beneath them. Glancing about yourself, you notice an abundance of grave markers along the sides of the roads. Crude stones with worn names from Nature’s uncaring storms.  
  
“We need to keep moving. I’ll pay for whatever you have lost in the crash. If night falls on us, we may not live to see the sun.” You hiss out in your aching pain, almost sure that you would have bruises all across your tanned skin by next dawn.  
“Speaking of payment,” Dismas approaches you while cleaning a dagger on his scarf, “remind me how much you plan on paying us for this… _unexpected circumstance?_ ”  
You frown at the highwayman, staring ahead towards the well-worn path. “I listed in the contract I had you sign that “diversions and unexpected events” are to be expected and planned for. So, your payment will be the same: 200 gold up front and 300 gold should you successfully accompany me to the Hamlet.”  
  
Dismas pulled his bandanna up to hide his frown, glancing away to survey they land. Reynauld shook his head and said nothing, a look of contemplation in his eyes. He had his visor up, it seemed. He was older than you expected.  
  
“Right. I think I know the way from here. We need to stay off the path, though. Bandits like to ambush you if you look rich enough. Follow me.” You brush your tattered, blue robes off and stretched far enough to pop your back. Rolling your shoulders, you gesture to the left of the path and trudge forward.  
  
\------------  
  
 _I distinctly remember something in the recesses of my mind telling me that the side path was safer. The last time I was even in these lands, I was about four years of age._  
 _The journey was uneventful for the first few hours. There were more gravestones than I could count, which was mildly disconcerting._  
 _We were ambushed by a brigand on our path. It did not take long to dispatch of him with the combined expertise of the bodyguards. I am reminding myself here to up their pay by fifteen gold when I have the funds._  
 _A close fifty feet away were two brigands that regretfully ambushed me as I was distracted._  
  
\------------  
  
Pack jingling with the gold looted from a campsite and the dead brigand left behind, you push through blighted foliage to enter in on a clearing. The side path to the ruins of your old home opened up in the treeline, showing in the distance the cliffside manor that plagued our family history.  
Your brief walk down memory lane is shattered by the sound of a gunshot, your body moving on its own to avoid a round whizzing past your ear. Your bodyguards shift into gear afterwards.  
  
”Damn it, another ambush!” You hear Dismas call out, clicking back the hammer on his flintlock.  
Directly afterwards, you hear something else. Faint, but definitely there:  
  
” _An ambush! Send these vermin a message: the rightful owner has returned, and their kind is no longer welcome._ ”  
You whirl your head around, looking frantically for the source of the voice. Instead of finding one, you are met with the gauntleted hand of Reynauld who shoves you back behind himself. “Heir Darkest, behind me!”  
  
\------------  
  
 _I should have been paying more attention. The two scoundrels were dispatched with haste, and I led Dismas and Reynauld down the worn and dusty path towards the Hamlet below._


End file.
